


If You Want Something Done Right

by Hoodoo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Nonbinary Character, Praise Kink, instructions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: You want sex, Rick brushes you off, so you take matters into your own hands. Then he comes around . . .





	If You Want Something Done Right

Rick has been tinkering for _days._ He’s been absorbed in something in his stupid garage. Once he disappeared through a portal without even saying where he was going, or how long he’d be gone, or anything. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t eaten regularly. You’re positive he hasn’t showered. 

But you can’t take it anymore.

You’ve been wanting, needing, desperate to get it on with him.

And he’s made that low priority. He’s _ignored_ you.

Well, that stops tonight.

He’s going to pay attention to you, or _else._

You go into the garage. He’s hunched over his work bench, muttering under his breath. There are tools and bits of plastic and metal strewn about in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, as you sidle up to his side. Not too close, however; he’s been known to throw elbows if he’s startled or in a pissy mood. 

“What?” he grumbles in return, without even looking up. “Go away-get lost. I’m f-f-fucking busy.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you agree. “Is it super important?”

Distracted, he answers, “Nah. Just some theoretical stuff that I wanted to see if I could, could work through.”

“Oh,” you say like you’re interested, and scoot closer. Eventually he’ll realize you’re only wearing a t-shirt with a binder underneath and absolutely nothing else, and that you’re so horny you can barely stand it.

“S-stop crowding me! You’re-you’re messing up my work space!”

He’s _impossible._

“Fine!” you spit back, throwing up your hands. “Whatever!”

You stomp back towards the door to the house. 

“Wait. Wait!” Rick calls after you.

_Finally._

You turn back. He’s not looking at you.

“Hand me that 3/16 by 1 ½ flat head screwdriver,” he demands. “The one on the shelf near the door.”

Like you know what the hell that means. You grab the nearest flat head you see, consider throwing it at him, wonder if you could get enough spin on it to stick in his stupid back, then sigh and take it over to him. You set it on the table.

He grabs for it without looking, but realizes it’s the wrong one when he tries to use it.

“What the fuck?!” he says angrily. “I-I-I told you the 3/16th, not the—“

He finally looks over at you, and interrupts his own sentence.

“—why’re you only-only wearing that?”

Now’s the time to turn on the charm. Or in the case of seducing Rick, just being completely straight with him.

You stretch your arms over your head, a little, so the hem of your shirt rides up to give him a glimpse of your pubic hair. 

“I’ve been so horny, Rick,” you tell him. “I want you to fuck me right here, right now!”

You didn’t miss his eyes darting down your torso to the junction of your thighs and lingering there, or the tiny amount of drool that was left on his lower lip as he licked it. He clears his throat, a little, and you give him a smile. 

“Come on, Rick,” you beg lightly. “You’ve been working on this thing for a while now! Why don’t you take a break and come work on me? Fuck me on your work bench—“

Those weren’t the magic words.

“Hell no!” he interrupts. “All my work-this is all delicate cir-circuitry! I can’t just throw it-I can’t just dump it to shove my d-dick in you! What the hell?”

Rage flares in you. 

“You know what, Rick?” you growl back. “Fine. Fine! I’ve been horny and you’ve been out here all week, and I haven’t bothered you. Then I thought maybe—maybe!—you’d take a little break, but that’s fine, that’s cool. You take all the time you need out here. I’m going to go back inside, make myself nice and comfortable on your cot, and do myself!”

You stomp off then. It’s not as dramatic as you’d like it to be, because you’re not wearing shoes, but he should get the idea. You throw a glance back over your shoulder as you go, and see him wave his hand in the air distractedly, like he was brushing you away.

That makes you angrier, and you vow to go through with what you threatened.

In his bedroom, surrounded by objects you don’t understand and some you recognize but still don’t understand, you flop down on his cot. You’ve cooled off a little, but not much; you’ve been too aroused and unsatisfied to just be able to sleep this off. You were really hoping to get down and dirty with Rick, but even as you hold your breath to listen, you don’t hear him coming down the hall, so apparently your request and your announcement made no impression on him. 

“Fine,” you huff half under your breath.

You lean over and dig around under his cot. You find the cardboard box he has shoved under there full of various sex toys. Pawing through the selection of dildos, butt plugs, vibrators of various shapes, and lubes, you realize you’re not in the mood for silicone or plastic.

You don’t even push the box back under the mattress. You just leave it there, all its contents on display beside his bed.

Your shirt has twisted uncomfortably. You shimmy out of it and throw it to the floor too. Your fingers brush against your binder, and you half-consider taking it off, and then decide not to. You looked good today in it. Collapsing back, you settle onto his lumpy pillow.

It smells like him. Like his cheap shampoo, like the booze that wafts around him as if it’s cologne. You punch the pillow into a more comfortable for you and try to imagine it’s the back of his head, but you’ve been conditioned to like the smell of him, and it’s hard to stay upset when you’re surrounded by everything Rick.

Your eyes wander to the wall of photos and his scribbled notes. They track the numerous strings he has tacked there, in a pattern only he understands. You don’t know what conspiracy or thought process he’s illustrating there, on his wall, but you like the visual representation of a tiny portion of his brain.

Looking at Rick’s thoughts, enveloped by his scent, your hand winds its way down to the junction of your legs.

You told him you were going to do yourself. You told him you were going to do it right here, in his bed. No sense making threats if you weren’t going to follow through with them. 

Your fingers pass over the mound of your pussy. Just the fingertips apply a steady pressure to it, without specific attention paid to your clit, but it is enough to light a little fire in your groin. Your middle finger slips between your folds, and you’re lightly wet, there. With a quick lick and suck of your first two fingers, you ease them back to the same spot. They slide deeper along your pussy with the slickness you’ve added. 

Nerve endings wake up.

A soft moan escapes your lips. You give yourself teasingly delicate touches; just a ghosting brush over your clit, then a little heaviness to make your hips jerk, then back to gentle again. Although your hand is well versed in what makes you feel best, you take your time and make it deliberately slow, keeping your pleasure at a slow burn versus an immediate, overwhelming burst.

An indeterminate amount of time passes as you play with yourself. Your binder slips a little and the bottom rolls up, but you still don’t remove it; you just straighten it back out. Your hips continue to instinctually rise as your fingers dip closer to your opening; your pussy wants filled, but that sweet ache of need is pleasurable too. The air is filled with more moans and gasps, although they’re much quieter than anything Rick has ever pulled from you.

As disappointed as you were with him, you still imagine him beside you. It’s easy, surrounded by his things and cloaked in his scent, and because you’ve been fucked on this cot so many times. You think of his fingers circling your clit, and his mouth replacing them, flicking it with his tongue, sucking it, and just when you think it’s too much, him slipping two fingers into your cunt and stroking you from the inside, bliss flowing through your body—

Something creaks, and it startles you a little, so lost as you were in your own fantasy. Your eyes snap open and lock on Rick’s, who is peering through the small crack between the wall and the hinges of his bedroom door.

Like so often with Rick, you’re wantonly spread open and on display before him. You don’t know how long he’s been there, watching you finger yourself, seeing you arch your body under your own playing, hearing you gasp—

Now that he’s been caught, he hurries fully into his room and shuts the door securely behind himself without an invitation.

Then he stands a little awkwardly beside his own bed, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. 

Well, you’re not going to tell him. 

Intentionally, you go back to what you were doing, only this time with an audience.

You continue to tantalize yourself, and your body continues to respond. You feel a little warmer and you know it’s due to the intensity of Rick’s gaze. When your eyelids flutter open and he sees that you’re looking at him again, even as your hand strokes pussy, he eases down onto the foot of the bed.

You smirk, a little, that he’s chosen the spot with the unobstructed view. 

From your spot on the pillow, you watch him watch you. He wets his lips, wipes them dry, then does it again. Once, he finds his flask and takes a mouthful from it, but he doesn’t replace it back into his pocket. The laser-like concentration he has focused on your actions—stroking, circling, flicking, and your bodily responses of shaking, moaning, and writhing—turns you on more too. 

He’s focusing on your hand and pussy; you manage to drag your gaze down his body and see that he’s sporting an erection that’s tenting against the fly of his pants. At that, you almost invite him to join you, but before you can say it, Rick says,

“You’re-you’re so fucking _hot,_ baby. I-I-I like to watch you touching yourself.”

“Mmm,” you reply eloquently, and again, the words asking him to join in are on the tip of your tongue.

“You haven’t, you haven’t fucked yourself though,” Rick continues. His voice is deep, like the deep it gets when he is actively involved in sex; gravely and accented with lust. “You’ve been teasing yourself a long time, here, baby. I can t-tell. Your pussy’s so wet—you’ve made a wet spot on my blanket. Did you know? Your fingers are soaked. You like playing with your clit, teasing yourself? It feels so good, baby, I know you make yourself feel so good—“

Rick was always a talker. It didn’t surprise you he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and just enjoy the show. But you also can’t deny that his voice had a profound effect on you, either. 

“—why don’t you just, just slip one finger into your cunt. Just one—no, don’t close your knees, let me see. I wanna look—I wanna be able to see your finger going in and the expression on your face while you do it. There, g-go on—“

You obey. Your middle finger finds the spot you denied it before and easily glides inside you. It’s good and a breathy little sigh passes your lips. You don’t close your eyes the whole way at the sensation; you just let them slide halfway shut so you can watch him too.

Rick smiles and licks his lips again. He also readjusts the crotch of his pants without shame. It’s a wonder he hasn’t stripped naked yet.

“—ah—good, baby, that feels good, doesn’t it? Move it in and out a little. Not—doesn’t feel good enough though! You’re-you’re used to big-ger and better things there, aren’t you?” 

He laughs at his own perceived wit but it doesn’t make you angry. You love sex with Rick, but you also know that there are things you do on your own that he can’t made you feel. You smile indulgently and let him continue.

“Now put two fingers in—oh god that’s hot—now pull them out. You’re doing so well. You’re so fucking _wet,_ baby, your fingers are all shiny—slip them back in—“

You continue to obey his directions. Two fingers do feel better, and the position puts more pressure on your clit from the meaty area under your thumb. That weight really sends bliss into your core, and it’s harder to keep your eyes open and your body loose when that starts to happen. When you actually start edging closer to an orgasm your legs want to close. You shudder under your own movements, your breath coming more quickly and your body temperature rising.

Rick’s cool hand stops you from closing your knees together. The interruption pulls you back into the here and now and you open your eyes to him. He’s leaning closer than he was before, and he’s panting too. The stale alcohol from his breath makes the area smell even more completely his. 

“Wait-wait—hold on a sec, b-baby,” he commands.

Here it is. Just what you asked for: Rick to come fuck you tonight. But he turned you down, snubbed you, and now he thinks he can just swoop in after you’ve done all this work yourself and take all the credit for it?

God help you, some of you wants him to.

He parts your legs again. Your thighs tremble because you were so close, and you still have two fingers buried in your pussy. However, you let him to what he wants. 

With that same cool hand, he extracts yours from between your legs. There’s an immediate sense of loss as your fingers are pulled out, and his little puffs of breath now chill that warmed area. He leans in even closer, and your legs loosely separate even more to accommodate him, in an automatic response to the idea he’s moving in to put his mouth on your pussy. You can anticipate the combination of his warm tongue slipping along your aching folds, finding your clit, flicking it—

Rick opens his mouth and pulls your wet fingers into it.

That wasn’t what you were expecting and it startles you a little bit, but it is also more erotic than you’d imagined.

He closes his eyes and rolls the two digits between his tongue. He sucks on them separately, and then together, and then separately again. He laps at your palm, and anywhere else that had contact with your pussy, and moans occasionally as he does it, which tickles.

He does that all unashamedly. You get to watch him simply enjoy what he’s doing. 

Then, when you’re dripping with his spit, he pays attention to your third finger, and gives it the same treatment. As a finale, he loosens his jaw and takes all three fingers in, more deeply than you’d have expected him to be able to. That might be something to ask him about later—

Rick releases you with a pop. Your hand is chilly now. He opens his eyes again and you see his pupils are blown.

“God you taste good,” he mutters. His tone and the absolute certainty in it make it one of the lewdest and most arousing things you may have heard from him.

He turns that megawatt intensity back on the whole of you and orders, “Fuck yourself, baby. Use those three fingers and fuck yourself. Push them deep into your cunt and ride them hard. I want to see you come so hard you soak this bed.”

Almost before his second sentence is out, you’re obeying. Your wet fingers slip into you with more immediate pleasure than you’d known—two fingers is good, you almost orgasmed from it, but three! It’s not often you use three on yourself; the ecstasy seems like too much decadence, too much for your body to bear. But Rick said to, Rick wanted to see. 

He hadn’t stopped talking, either.

“—oh shit, baby, oh shit—that is so fucking hot, I can see your cunt stretch and your f-fingers are so deep inside you, that must feel so-so-so good, your fingers so deep, use your other hand, baby, use it-use it and put more pressure on your clit, oh christ—“

Again, though the escalating white hot pleasure that is threatening to shut down your upper brain functions, you do as he suggests. Typically you don’t use two hands when pleasuring yourself but at his request your other hand finds the back of the one doing the work and presses downward. That tiny bit extra sends shockwaves of bliss through you and you cry out sharply. 

“—fuck baby, yes, like that, god, so good, you’re doing so good baby, you look so fucking good—“

You come hard, just as he requested, just like you needed. Your legs snap shut again, and again Rick gently maneuvers them open so he can watch. 

“—I can see your cunt squeeze your fingers, holy _fuck,_ baby, that’s so hot—“ 

He cuts himself off with a strangled sound. 

You come back down to earth in slow waves. You feel weak but gorged. The thin sweat that has broken out on you chills you, but nothing feels colder than finally pulling your fingers out of your pussy and out from between your legs. You moan at the loss of them. There are involuntary tremors in your legs. 

Rick’s still completely clothed, you realize lazily. He didn’t even shrug out of his lab coat. He stands up, a little awkward due to the erection he also didn’t attend to, and carefully helps you sit up so he can loosen the tightly tucked blanket you’d laying on. 

While you’re up, his fingers find the eye hooks of your binder.

“No, I want to wear it,” you tell him. You’re incredibly sleepy now; all that rage you’d held earlier was released and your orgasm has left you peaceful. You just want to snuggle down and sleep.

“I won’t make you-you don’t have to wash yourself, baby,” Rick compromises. “I love the smell of your pussy after sex in my bed. But you can’t wear your binder to sleep in. It’s not, it’s not good for you. Come on.”

You know he’s right and you let him unfasten the row of hooks. He helps you slip it off and folds it, then puts it close by so you can put it back on when you wake up, if you want to.

Then he shoves you over, closer to the wall—the best position on his small cot—and after dropping his own clothing, settles in beside you. He snaps his fingers and the lights go out. He’s so proud of that little invention, even if he refuses to admit he stole the idea from the old infomercial about the Clapper™.

His pillow is still lumpy and you try to push it into a more comfortable position for yourself without dislodging him. He grunts.

“You didn’t get off,” you whisper to him, and wonder if you should do something about his cock between you. It’s losing its stiffness, but it wouldn’t take much to bring it back to life.

“Nope,” he agrees.

“. . . do you want to?”

“Y-yes. But you made it perfectly clear you were doing you tonight. I just snuck in for the free show.”

“Hmm,” you murmur back. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will. Go to sleep, baby.”

And with that blessing, you did.

_fin._


End file.
